"I'll help Gracie in the hideout. Lauren, I think you're the best person to deal with him," Muskaan speaks up. "And maybe Andrew can help you...?"
Lauren opened her mouth to speak. Andrew, an expression of rapidly rising panic becoming evident on his handsome face, barked, "No! Absolutely not! I'm not going near that- that thing."
"Eh, I can take him alone," Lauren shrugged coolly. No one disputed this.
"He's really not that bad," Grace added, her eyes beginning to adopt a faraway look of longing. "I always liked him." She chewed on her lip as Andrew dragged a hand down his face, his worry mingling with exasperation. "Remember, Skaani? He always knew just what to say..."
Muskaan's grip on the lever to open the hideout slackened, if only for a moment. "He did..."
"No! I hate both of you! Get outta here!" Andrew screamed angrily.
"See? He's concerned for our safety." Grace smiled fondly. "He does care."
"Aww!" Muskaan turned to him with a similar expression, and Andrew knew they would pounce soon.
"Go away!" He squawked irritably. Lauren witnessed the entire exchange with raised eyebrows and the occasional glance at the clock.
"That's very sweet, Andrew." Grace grinned. Muskaan nodded.
"Shut up, bith!"
"Okay, I think flirty Andrew must be getting close," Lauren said finally, pushing the other girls into the hideout. Grace put up quite a struggle before Muskaan, who had somewhat come to her senses, snatched a nearby hand mirror and held it in front of Grace, obstructing her view of Andrew. The effect was instant: her loving gaze multiplied a hundredfold and she was easily led the rest of the way through the trapdoor, which Lauren hastily slammed shut. Andrew ignored the slight pang in his muscular chest, deciding it must be dread of the monster to come. He sighed irritably.
Lauren silently sharpened her fangs and practiced swooping on imaginary prey, leaving Andrew essentially alone to deal with his thoughts. "I have to face him," he told her finally. Hanging from the rafters, she tilted her head slightly to show that she had heard him, but found verbal words to be inconvenient if not unnecessary. "I don't know what to do with him, but...he's my responsibility. Gros." He snatched a sword off the wall and stared contemplatively at the sharp blade, soon realizing that there was a second Andrew reflected on its surface. The king of Hell whirled to face his pulchritudinous doppelgänger.
Looking at flirty Andrew was like staring into an especially flattering mirror with perfect lighting. Flirty Andrew was effortlessly enticing, with a casual, carefree air about him. Skillfully cut dirty blond hair - a style so different from the Bieber cut of Andrew's junior high years - fluttered lightly, blown by an unseen gentle breeze. A beguiling smirk, not dissimilar from Andrew's own usual sly smile, spread across flirty Andrew's face. Yet unlike the true king of Hell, flirty Andrew did not avert his eyes from the object of his smoldering gaze. Flirty Andrew was smooth, confident, charming...far more than Andrew typically dared to attempt. Flirty Andrew was fearless. Flirty Andrew would seduce a seductress (a mildly mortifying thought when the king of Hell thought about the identities of the usual victims of flirty Andrew's advances). Flirty Andrew was stunningly beautiful but frightening to behold. Andrew wasn't gay or anything, but even he secretly harbored a small amount of admiration for flirty Andrew - he caught himself thinking L E G as he promptly averted his gaze.
Then, like he did every time flirty Andrew appeared, Andrew fled. Right into his secret hideout. He yanked the trapdoor closed and set iron bars in place, effectively locking himself inside.
Inside. Safe. Away from flirty Andrew...but not alone.
